Death Rides the Surf (16 page)

Roberto had a
key. He opened the arched door to the motel and pushed Kate through ahead of him. They entered a dingy and damp reception area smelling of mildew.

“Down that hallway,” Roberto gestured to the right. They passed several closed doors and then came to an open one. “Go on in,” he said, and followed her into a room with an ocean view and peeling wallpaper featuring faded flamingoes.

The room was square, with two double beds, an old-fashioned highboy dresser, two end tables, a desk, a straight-back desk chair, a wicker coffee table, and two small club chairs. A black phone, circa 1960, stood on one of the end tables, evoking old New York memories of Pennsylvania 6 and Butterfield 8. Roberto drew the tattered camel-colored drapes and the daylight ebbed.

Roberto opened another door and motioned Kate over.

She shook her head, standing pat. He charged at her, knocking her straw hat off, and then dragged her by the collar of her white polo shirt into the closet.

“Please,” Kate cried, the tears hot against her cheeks. “Where’s Katharine?”

“I’m moving the car around to the back. Your granddaughter will be joining you soon. Now the señora will shut up if she knows what’s good for her.” He shut the closet door and she heard a key turn in the lock.

The Casablanca had been built more than fifty years ago. Kate couldn’t budge the solid oak door. The smell of mothballs turned her stomach sour. Her Pepcid AC was in her bag and she’d left her bag in the car. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Would anyone hear her? Would she die in here? Was Katharine already dead?

She sank to her knees, saying a prayer.

It was too dark in the closet to see her watch, but Kate felt certain several hours had passed. She was thirsty and her bladder felt full. Panic ebbed as cold terror took over, settling into her chest, eating at her gut.

Sitting with her back against a wall, listening to bugs—roaches—scurry in the dark, she’d about given up, sure she would die in this god-awful closet without knowing if her granddaughter was dead or alive. Then she heard the sound of a woman’s laughter.

She forced herself to stand up and pounded on the door, screaming, “Let me out of here!”

The light in the room hurt Kate’s eyes as Roberto held the closet door open. “Come out and join us, señora.”

Katharine lay still on the twin bed nearest the window. Her skin was ashen. “What have you done to her?” Kate shouted, and then darted across the room to Katharine’s bedside.

Her granddaughter’s breathing seemed normal and, other than lack of color, there was no visible harm to her body. Kate’s panic grew. Why wasn’t Katharine moving?

Kate took Katharine’s hand and said, “Darling, it’s Nana, can you hear me?”

The girl wore the same clothes she’d been wearing this morning when she’d walked Ballou, a pale green T-shirt and olive green baggy khakis. Her black patent leather flip-flops lay, as if waiting for Katharine to step back into them, on the floor at the bottom of the bed. The sight of those flip-flops had turned Kate’s terror to anger.

“I want you to tell me what you did to her,” Kate said. Her voice was icy, but not loud. “Answer me!”

Roberto shrugged. “She’s fine, just sleeping off a tranquilizer. Now sit down and shut up, Señora Kennedy, or I promise you will regret it. We have a plan to make and a script to memorize.”

Kate needed to buy time, make a plan of her own, but first things first. “Roberto, I need water and I need to use the bathroom. Now.”

She looked around the room. There was no sign of the laughing woman. Who was she and where had she gone?

“Ransom?” Marlene’s hysteria
came through loud and clear on Roberto’s cell phone’s speaker. “God Almighty! Are you okay? Is Katharine okay?”

Kate sat in one of the dirty chintz club chairs facing Roberto, who sat in the matching chair less than a foot away from her. They had put Roberto’s plan into action.

Kate, afraid to utter an unscripted word, glanced over at Roberto. He nodded.

“Yes, we’re okay.” Kate felt weird to be talking without a phone in her hand, and even weirder to be having this conversion.

“How much?” Marlene asked, not sounding the least bit reassured. “And where do I bring the money?”

With her eyes on her sleeping granddaughter, Kate, heart pounding, delivered her next line exactly as rehearsed with Roberto. “Clean out your CD, the one with Katharine as your beneficiary at the Sun Trust Bank in Palmetto Beach. Get a cashier’s check made out to Katharine Kennedy.”

Marlene Friedman’s third and last husband, Jack Weiss, had been a very successful man, and his widow was now a wealthy woman. Marlene’s estate would be divided among Kate, Katharine, and Lauren, though Kate had always hoped that she would die before her best friend. If Roberto had his way, she might get her wish.

Love made women do foolish things. Katharine had told Jon Michael about her grandaunt’s bank account. Roberto had overheard, and the seeds of his sick plan had been planted, becoming one of several motives for Jon Michael’s death.

She wanted to reach over and touch Katharine. The girl looked so ill. So vulnerable. What kind of drug had that bastard given her? Could her granddaughter be in a coma?

Roberto’s plan had included using Katharine’s ID to cash the cashier’s check. Kate knew that once that transaction was completed, Katharine and Kate would become expendable.

The plan also called for Roberto to hang up as soon as Kate had given Marlene the money transfer instructions. She had to do something now. Send some sort of a signal to Marlene.

“Where are you?” Marlene asked, her hysteria on hold.

Roberto shook his head.

“I can’t tell you where I am.”

“Can the kidnapper hear me?”

“Yes.” Kate watched Roberto’s face. “He can hear you.” She took a deep breath, and then spoke. “So listen very carefully to what I’m telling you.”

Kate was about to insert her first ad-lib. Would Roberto notice?

“As time goes by, you must remember this,” she paused. Roberto’s expression hadn’t changed. She might be able to pull this off, and then pray that Marlene had gotten the message. Kate continued, “For the sake of our beautiful friendship,” she paused again for less than a second, and said, “you must understand what I’m saying and do everything I’m trying to tell you. If you don’t, Katharine will be killed.”

“Go on, Kate,” Marlene sounded almost calm.

“Be at Sun Trust tomorrow morning when it opens at eight. When you leave the bank, a woman will approach you. An older woman. Give her the cashier’s check, then get in your car, and drive home. Don’t talk to the police or discuss this call with anyone.”

Roberto nodded, indicating Kate should wrap it up.

“You must remember what I told you. Otherwise we’ll both regret it for the rest of our lives. You’ve always understood when I tried to tell you something important, Marlene. I’m counting on that now.” Kate didn’t dare look at Roberto.

“I understand,” Marlene said.

Kate prayed she did.

“Dinner’s here.” A woman’s voice shouted from the hall.

Roberto leapt from his chair and opened the door.

An old lady, balancing two pizza boxes and a six-pack of Diet Coke, entered. She wore a lavender sweat suit and her perfectly coiffed hair looked like a wig. Huge diamonds dangled from her earlobes, neck, and wrist.

Roberto’s face sparkled like the old lady’s jewels. As Marlene had said, lots of odd couples in this case.

Kate checked out the woman’s eyes. Yes! She was about to meet Diamond Lil. Damn. Where had she seen those eyes before?

Katharine stirred, then woke up crying.

Kate ran over and held her granddaughter close, murmuring, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay, darling.”

“Nana, I’m so sorry. He grabbed me after Marlene had dropped me off at church. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. He put something over my face and shoved me in the trunk.” Katharine sobbed. “No one saw us, Nana. The parking lot was empty.”

“It’s okay,” Kate said again. Why did she keep saying that when everything was so wrong?

“Stop crying, Katharine,” Roberto said. “We all want to enjoy our dinner, don’t we?”

As Diamond Lil served the pizza, Kate noticed her hands. Nary a vein, a sunspot, or a dry patch. Not an old lady’s hands. They were the smooth, tanned-to-perfection hands of a teenage girl.

Friday morning, November 3

This could be
the last day of my life, Kate thought as she awoke from a fitful sleep in the chintz chair. The last day of Katharine’s life. She remained still, her eyes closed, fighting an urge to check on her granddaughter. She didn’t want her kidnappers to know she was awake.
Kidnap.
What a strange verb to describe such a horrific crime. Children weren’t the only ones abducted, grabbed off the street, taken from their beds, and held against their will. Kate, a senior citizen, and Katharine, a college student, had been
kidnapped. Kidnap
was a misnomer.

Murder, on the other hand, was an all-inclusive verb.

Kate felt helpless, frightened. She no longer had control over her destiny; she could only pray that Marlene had gotten her message. She asked St. Jude to give her strength. And maybe a small miracle.

“Wake up,” Roberto said as he shook her shoulder.

Kate opened her eyes and glanced at her watch. Six thirty. Beyond those drawn drapes, the sun was coming up and early risers, with freedom of choice, had started their day.

Six thirty. If Marlene had understood Kate’s message, the police should have been here by now. Had she seen her last sunrise? An inner voice scolded: get hold of yourself. Don’t give up.

Katharine snored softly. Kate’s fear was replaced with anger as she stared at her granddaughter. She turned to Roberto. “What did you give her?”

He shrugged, seeming to realize that whatever he told Kate wouldn’t matter if his plan worked, and he was arrogant enough to be sure it would. “Equal parts Tylenol PM and water.”

God, when help arrived, she’d take Katharine to the hospital. Kate smiled, and a small giggle escaped: she’d thought
when
, not if.

“Something is funny, señora?”

“An inside joke, Roberto.”

The bathroom door opened and a beautiful young redhead in white shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes walked out.

Amanda Rowling, the missing co-ed, was alive and well, and Roberto’s partner in crime. She had her mother’s eyes.

Amanda must have dyed her hair red so she could pass for Katharine when she cashed Marlene’s cashier’s check for over $350,000. She’d have Katharine’s driver’s license, student ID, and credit cards. Kate had spotted her granddaughter’s handbag on the bureau.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Kate?” the girl asked, and then poured boiling water from an ancient coffeemaker into two mugs.

Kate sipped her tea, watching in silent, sick fascination as Amanda transformed herself into Diamond Lil.

Grace Rowling had told Kate what a great actress her daughter was. She was also a great makeup artist, using gray eye shadow to create dark bags and the illusion of wrinkles. She even used cotton balls to make her face fatter. Roberto taped pillows to her breasts, buttocks, and thighs. Dark tights covered those slim, tanned legs. When Amanda pulled on her frumpy housedress, she looked lumpy in all the right—or wrong—places. She stepped into Dr. Scholl’s sandals, winking at Kate. She adjusted her white wig and topped it with a tiara. Her transformation was complete. Amanda Rowling had become Diamond Lil.

Kissing Roberto on the cheek, she pushed him away as he tried for her lips. “Stop, you’ll mess up my makeup.” They both laughed at what had to be their private joke. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

Diamond Lil left the Casablanca Motel at seven fifteen, allowing more than enough time to arrive in Palmetto Beach by eight.

If Roberto’s plan worked, and Amanda got the check and cashed it on her way back to the motel, Kate figured she and Katharine had about an hour and a half to live.

Kate sat in the dirty chintz chair, trying to disappear into its flowers.

Katharine slept and neither Roberto nor Kate spoke.

At eight fifteen, Roberto, the gun in his shirt pocket, paced as Kate boiled water to make a cup of tea for Katharine. The girl had awakened about five minutes ago and had heeded her grandmother’s index finger to her lip as a signal to keep quiet.

Amanda could be calling any minute, authorizing Katharine and Kate’s death warrant.

Kate poured the hot water into a mug. Should she try to grab the gun? Yell for Katharine to run and save herself? Kate had to try. Now.

Something crashed through the widow facing the beach. The drapes billowed, and then parted, revealing a man’s arm. Behind Kate and Roberto, the door made a wheezing sound, then burst open.

Roberto swung around, aiming the gun at Kate. She threw the hot water in his face as Katharine screamed, and Nick Carbone yelled, “Freeze!”

Marlene had gotten the message.